


Interesting Times

by Gwir-Weld y Galon (Gwir_Weld_y_Galon)



Series: The Interesting Series [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:48:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwir_Weld_y_Galon/pseuds/Gwir-Weld%20y%20Galon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto Jones had a sister. One he never knew existed. And she had a daughter. Now Ianto is the guardian of a 14 year old girl with the sarcasm of Jack O’Neill, the deductive reasoning of Sherlock Holmes and the languages skills of Daniel Jackson.<br/>Bring your daughter to work day is going to be interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Miss Thalia 'Sherlock' Robinson

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. At all. Except Morrie and Jon, who are the creations of my own mind and a long period of ranting to my friends that there should have been a way to bring Tosh, Owen and Ianto back. So, Enjoy!

The girl was sitting three rows from the back in a maths room. There was a whiteboard at the front, with several examples that she was frantically copying down into a plain lined notebook in a purple pen. She had long dark hair, twisted back into a vague semblance of a messy bun, and held with a long silver slide. The ends that stuck straight up out of the bun, poking over the top of her head, were red. Her eyes were big and blue. Her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth, highlighting her focus on the task at hand. The school uniform she wore was variations on the colour blue – a royal blue blazer and woollen jumper, a blue and white tartan skirt, white stockings, black shoes. She didn’t look like she was about to have her world rocked to the very core. Her name was Thalia ‘Sherlock’ Robinson, and she was who the man in the official looking suit was looking for.  
The rain slammed into the windowpane of the classroom, doubling in strength. Thalia looked out, watching the water course down the glass, and sighed. If it was raining, basketball might be cancelled. That would be bad, with finals coming up on Sunday and training being rained out last night, she needed to get some shots up to keep her eye in. Plus, she wanted to referee so that she could pick up her pocket money. She sighed and ran her fingers down her skirt, smoothing out the creases.

“Hey, Sherlock!” called someone from the front of the classroom. “Guy out front wants to talk to you!”  
She smiled at the nickname. It had always made her laugh, especially when, one by one, the teachers began to use it. It had come about during a school talent quest, when a friend had dragged her up on stage, and dragged up a stranger, getting her to go through her thought process before coming out with a name, age and class, even though she had never met him before. After that, Sherlock seemed the only possible option. But for now, she slid out of her seat, danced between the tables, and headed to the front of the room, walking out the door and then breaking into a run up the hallway. About 500 metres from the main office, she slowed to a walk, fixing her skirt and blazer and slowing her breathing.

“Miss Robinson?” said the man, in a British accent she couldn’t quite place. She nodded affirmation.  
He then proceeded to destroy her world in less than thirty seconds.

“I am sorry to inform you that your parents have been killed in an explosion. We think it was a terrorist attack.”  
It felt like she was moving through treacle, her world fading to grey. Her parents couldn’t be dead. It just wasn’t possible. The colour drained from her face, and the man looked at her, genuine sadness displayed on his open and honest face.

“I am truly sorry for your loss, Miss Robinson.”  
Thalia Robinson sniffs, and tries to hold back the tears as she makes her half-blind way towards her classroom. About halfway there, she ran into a wall and turning so that she leant back against it, began to cry. She slid down until she was seated, the smooth wall feeling like the only solid thing left in her world. The greys around her wouldn’t go away for almost three months, when she got over it by throwing herself fully into the search for a relative other than her Father’s brother to live with. Finally she discovered a link – her mother had been adopted, and had two siblings living in Wales. She handed her findings to the Social services officer in charge of her case, and waited. She waited for her new Uncle to respond to her case worker’s email.

 

Ianto Jones frowned as he looked at the email that had just appeared in his inbox. It was a missive from a social worker in Australia, of all places, that told him he’d had another sister. A sister who had died almost – he checked the date – three months ago. And she had a family. A daughter, called Thalia. And Thalia needed a guardian. There was a picture of her at the bottom of the email. She could have been his daughter. There was no doubt about that. He smiled as he looked at the note she had written. She’d signed it with a nickname (and anyone who’s nickname was Sherlock Ianto already began to like), and a quick PS saying she had to run at the time, because she was late for another court hearing, and she’d lost track of time, but if he was going to come and get her, could he do it quickly, because she really needed his help. This last bit was signed with her real name and an email address.  
Thalia Louise Robinson.  
Ianto tapped his comm unit as his fingers began to fly across the keys.

“Gwen? I’m going to need a month or so off.”  
Without Jack there, it took longer for Gwen to agree to let him go. If the Captain had been in charge, he would have been out the door in minutes, with Jack following right behind and Tosh booking flights. Now, it took him almost a week for Gwen to let him go, although he emailed Thalia every day. He found out all sorts of things about her. She played basketball. Her best friend was Michelle. Her favourite subjects were languages, and she loved Steampunk. She had an eclectic taste in music. She had a gift with words, Ianto noted. In any language. Once, out of interest, and because none of the others would find out, he gave her some of the alien text Tosh had taken months to use a program to decode. She had it translated in less than a day. Ianto spent the rest of that day grinning, and even Owen snarking couldn’t keep the smile of his face. Finally, the day arrived that Gwen agreed to let him have off arrived, and he all but ran to the airport to get the flight. He read over the last email Thalia had sent him on his blackberry while he waited in line for boarding.

 _Hurry, Uncle Yan. They’re not going to let me stay with you now, but I can’t stay with him. God, my poor cousins. I’ll need to change my name, and then we can run.  
Love you,  
Sherlock._

Without a second thought, Ianto called the only number he could think of to help him.

“Hey, Tosh. It’s me. I need your help with forging some documents. They’re for my niece.” By the time he touched down, a passport made out for the name Morrigan Amber Jones – something Sherlock had told him once, and all the documents she would need to emigrate to Wales were in his possession. And Ianto Jones had run to the taxi stand, and caught a taxi to a small apartment, where he was met by a very excited Thalia Robinson, and in minutes, they were both crying, and holding each other so tightly it’s almost laughable, and then he’s helping he pack, and she’s singing Belle and Sebastian and introducing him to Firefly and Buffy and Steampunk bands, and they are arguing about whether or not she should finish her school assignments, and then, almost before he knows it, they are on the plane, as father and daughter, on their way back to Cardiff.


	2. Miss M A Jones, Torchwood Agent 573

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrie meets Torchwood (and someone else who likes Good Omens)

They settled into a rhythm quickly after their arrival in Cardiff. Morrie would cycle home from school, and make dinner. She and Ianto would stay in text contact all evening, and she would crawl into bed as he made it home. The text messages almost broke Ianto’s bank, until he fixed his plan.

 _At home._ Was usually her first one.

 _How was your day?_ He’d reply. From there, it depended on what had happened. The night he introduced her to the world of   
Torchwood, it went like this:

 _Good. Not much homework. Enjoyed Latin. I HATE maths._

 _I don’t like maths either._

 _Pah! Want to do more arts_

 _Languages, you mean_

 _Can I do more languages at extension level?_

 _I’ll talk to your headmaster_

 _Thanks. Should I make dinner for two?_

 _Nah. Looks like I’ll be here all night. Don’t worry about me._

 _Of course I worry about you._

 _How’s the new translation going?_

 _Ok. I should be done by tonight._

 _Great. Can’t wait to see what you’ve done._

 _Can’t wait to show you._

 

There had been a break as Morrie made herself dinner, and then her phone had gone off.

 

 _Don’t go anywhere. Don’t leave the house._

 _WTF?_

 _Promise me Morrie_

 _What’s going on?_

 _PROMISE ME!_

 _Ok! Ok! I promise!_

 _Good. Stay in. I’ll be home soon._

Morrie had sat tight in the main room of their small apartment, with that television on, although she wasn’t paying much attention. The colours painted the off-white ceiling like light through a stain glass window. And then the gunshots broke through the stillness of the world outside. Morrie barely took a minute to respond, her huge blue eyes widening even further. She was halfway to the door when she remembered her Tad’s text. Don’t leave the house.  
She swore, and reached for her phone.

 _There were gunshots. She typed._

 _I’m coming home. There are some friends with me. Everything ok?_

 _Yeah, it’s fine. What’s going on?_

 _Nothing. It’s fine._

 _Tad…_

 __I’ll tell you when I get home ok?_ _

And the door burst open, her Tad coming in, quickly followed by two women and another man, all of them talking quickly.

“Morrie? Could you grab what you’ve done of that translation? It could be important.”

“Sure…” she said slowly, darting around the corner and snatching up her notebook from her desk, handing it easily to her   
Tad. The other man in the room rolled his eyes and came over to her.

“I’m Owen.” He said. She smiled. It was the first friendliness from her Tad’s companions she’d had all night.

“Morrigan.”

“Like the goddess?” he asked. She nodded. “I like it.”

That teased a smile out of her. He looked around at the room and smiled.

“Really got a Soho bookstore look going here, don’t we?”

She smirked. “Zira was always my favourite.”

“I liked Crowley. More sarcasm, you know?”

“I get it. I just liked Zira’s ability to bother Crowley into changing something with three words.”

He smiled again.

“Owen! We need to head back to the Hub. I need to run the translation alongside some of our energy readings.” said the Asian woman, frowning slightly.

“Come on, Raven!” said Owen cheerfully, slinging an arm around Morrie’s shoulders.

“No.” said Ianto firmly.

“Yes.” said Owen. “She deserves to know.”

“Know what?” Morrie asked nervously.

“Aliens.” drawled Owen.

Her Tad suggested several things that Owen could do with himself for telling her this. All were rather explicit.

“If you want to forget this once we’re through, we can do it.” Ianto told her.

Morrie grabbed her jacket and squared her shoulders, turning to face the door.

“Let’s go.”

 

She became a member of the team after that, much to Gwen’s chagrin. Owen and she grew closer and closer, and bonded over everything from their shared love of Good Omens and Abney Park to a shared hate of cheesy romance flicks. He dropped her off at school every time they pulled an all-nighter working on their latest case. Tosh taught her all about computers, and taught her Japanese, something the linguistically inclined teenager adored. It became expected that Morrie would turn up with a basket of food after school finished, and there was always a spare t-shirt and jeans and a pair of Cons or Docs in the locker room.

The comfortable way of life the team had so carefully formulated was completely shattered the night the blowfish came to town.


	3. Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang (Or Morrie, Jon, and the continued Attachment of Brains)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack comes back, and the world moves. Oh, and Morrie picks up a new friend, gets taught (very quickly) to use a gun, and clones are discovered.

Morrie sat behind the monitor Tosh had set up for her, anxiously watching a black SUV chase a red sports car across the city.

“Take the wheel, Gwen!” yells Owen, something Morrie can barely make out as she lip reads her video feed. Promptly ignoring all instructions she had been given, Morrie grabbed the spare comm unit off the table and shoved it into her ear, turning it rapidly on.

“Owen Harper, don’t you bloody dare!” she yelped, a split second before Gwen did.

“Morrigan Amber Jones, take that bloody comm unit off, and turn it off!”

“Not until Owen promises to not do anything stupid. And on its current trajectory, the blowfish will head into one of these houses if Owen shoots its tyres. So don’t.”

“Morrie! Turn the comms off!” snarled Ianto. While the quiet Welshman rarely showed his emotions, when it came to protecting Morrie, it was quite common to see him furious.

“Ianto, let her be. She’s proved to be an asset.” Tosh said calmly. Morrie watched her place a hand on her Tad’s arm, soothing him.

“Thanks Tosh. Owen, let Gwen shoot its tyres. Then follow it, it will head to one of the houses.”

“And you can tell this how?” snapped Gwen, plainly annoyed.

“Dude, it’s obvious.” Morrie sniggered.

“Her nickname wasn’t Sherlock for nothing.” said Ianto, unable to restrain himself.

“And here I was beginning to think it should be Aziraphale.” joked Owen, trying to keep up with the speeding blowfish, while Gwen lent out the window to shoot at the tyres of the car.

“Just because I’m the archivist.” sighed Morrie, smiling, heading into the autopsy bay to prep it for the alien’s arrival.

“Guys, there were shots from one of the houses.” snapped Gwen, trying to get them to focus once more.

“Told you so.” giggled Morrie from her end of the line, now whirling into the hall to make coffee.

The voice of the blowfish floated through the comms unit. Morrie froze as her began to describe each of them, slowly.

“The Doctor, with his hands full of blood, the xxx with her oh so beating heart, the technician with her cold devices, the office boy, promoted beyond his years…” Morrie stood, still as a statue, hoping against hope that it was there the alien would stop.

“And back in your little lair, the linguist, with her gift of tongues.” Morrie swore softly under her breath as the blowfish babbled on. And as she ran towards the exit of the Hub, where her bike waited to go help her new family, a gunshot echoed down her comm link. She stopped again, hands pressed together, over her mouth, eyes impossibly wide.

“Hello kids!” came an American accented voice. “Did ya miss me?”

 

Morrigan Amber Jones was **not** happy. She stood tapping her toes in the top of the Hub centre, letting the little scene of screaming play out in front of her. As Gwen stormed off, she finally decided she’d had enough.

“What the hell is going on?” she snapped, planting her feet. The man spun to face her.

“Who’s this, guys?”

“Jack,” said her Tad, shuffling his feet, “this is my foster daughter, Morrigan. She’s our linguist and archivist. Morrie, this is Captain Jack Harkness, our boss.”

“Hello, sir.” said Morrie, beginning to smile.

“Linguist?” asked Jack.

“Russian, several dialects of Mandarin, Japanese, thanks to Tosh, Latin, Ancient Greek, Aramaic, French, Spanish,   
Portuguese, several similar eastern European languages, and a lot of work on proto-Germanic and early and developing languages.”

Jack whistled appreciatively. “Nice one, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, sir. I try my best.” Morrie said waiting for the response she knows she’ll get.

“Like Father like daughter, eh?” murmured Jack, stepping back to look at her. She smiled at him.

“Of course, sir. There’s coffee waiting in the conference room, sir, and I’ll put it in a thermos because there’s a call for you, sir, a murder that looks suspicious.” Morrie said, turning back to her monitor, and putting in the comms with a flourish. Ianto rolled his eyes, but Owen just gave her half a hug and danced around to pick up the keys again.

“Au revoir, mon captain!” she said with a grin, twirling around to wave at them as they left, pressing play on The Smiths and going back to some very boring algebra homework. She could hear Jack’s voice in her ear, and she knew that it was her Tad who had left his comms on.

“I _like_ her.”

She grinned again, and began to sing along with the music.

“This charming man…”

 

And then she was listening to Owen and Tosh and Ianto complaining about how Jack always shut them out while furiously working away at locating where he was going, and laughing as they claimed it was more fun with him around.

“This charming man…”

Morrie focused down on the map in front of her, her eyes watering from staring at the screen for too long.

“He’s headed for a bar downtown. There was a disturbance there earlier tonight, but we missed it cause we were at the murder scene.”

“Great.” said Owen, running his fingers through his hair. “Disturbances.”  
She hacked the bar’s CCTV while she waited for the others to get there, singing along with the song as she tapped away at the keyboard.

“He knows so much about these things…”  
And then she was hooked into the system, and watching as the other man made her family so uncomfortable she almost cried just watching him, and then Jack was bringing him back. Morrie spun around, and slipped of the chair, her long hair swishing around her face while she ran to get the weapons scanner.

 

“What can I say? I’m a two weapon man.” drawled John. Morrie, standing behind him with a weapons scanner, smiled.

“Thirteen small explosive devices in the lining of his coat, two small knives in the tops of his boots, a small revolver in the back of his collar and a gun at his elbow.” She called, walking down the stairs. Off their expressions as she made it to the floor, she added, “What? Do I need to say it in another language? Because I don’t think I can say ‘explosive device’ in Latin.”

John smiled as the girl stepped into the light.

“Prettiest friend!” he chirped. And she definitely was. She had long dark hair with peroxided ends, pulled into a braid down the side of her face, tied off with a red ribbon. Her eyes were huge and blue, and judging by the expression on his face, the similarity between her and Ianto (who was definitely eye candy in his own right) was based on genetics. She wore a red top with a wide neck that had slipped down, leaving one shoulder bare, a black tiered skirt that went all the way down to her ankles, and a pair of red high-top converses. She folded her arms.

"Thanks, I’m sure. If that’s all you needed?” she says politely, looking to Jack.

“Coffee, please. Lots of.” says the doctor from the other side of the room.

“No, Owen, I will not bring you coffee. You’ve already had twelve cups today. Decaf only.”

“Morrie!”

The girl grinned, and waved her hand in Owen’s general direction. “Rabid chipmunk, Owen, rabid chipmunk. Anything for you and the two-weapon-man here, sir?”

“Anything you’ve got rift activity about six hours ago.”

“Yes sir!” she said, and scooped up the end of her skirt, running over to the computers. John raised an eyebrow, watching her go. The skirt swished around her legs as she walked. Jack smacked him around the back of the head.

“Stay away from her.”

 

Morrigan Jones was used to the idle chatter from her comms unit. The others had quickly adapted to her need for knowing what was happening by leaving their transmitters on, while not receiving anything unless they wanted to. So when the comms cut out suddenly, Morrie suspected foul play. She went straight down to the archives and grabbed out a life signs detector and a signal booster to try and get a message through to Owen, Tosh, Ianto and Jack. Oh, and Gwen. The booster did nothing, but the life signs detector was picking up something in the autopsy bay. Not the alien, but a human. Morrie swore vehemently and ran into the bay.

Jonathan Hart was unimpressed. He’d taken his first gasp of air in a bloody autopsy bay. Frowning he sat up and looked around. Memories swirled through his head, but they felt like someone else’s. Someone older.

“Are you alright?” came a hesitant voice from the doorway. It had a strange accent, slightly American, with a hint of New Zealand, a touch of Australia and an overtone of Wales.

“No I bloody well am not!” he snapped. Being born at age 16 does not make one happy.

“What’s your name?”

“Jonathan. Jonathan Hart.”

“I’m Morrigan. Morrigan Jones. Do you know where you are?”

“Cardiff, right? The other me had some big plans for here. Something about a diamond.” The sounds of the lift springing into action made Morrie jump.

“We need to go somewhere safe. Come on!” she grabbed his arm and pulled him into a darkened corner, grabbing something out of Jack’s office as they ran for the stairs.

 

John Hart leant back on his heels, looking at the pieces of the puzzle laid out before him. The diamond was almost within his grasp. The moment was somewhat ruined by the barrel of a gun being pressed to the back of his head.

“I’m not entirely sure how this thing works, but you two point oh assures me that the safety is off, and if I press the trigger, it will make your head go boom in a most spectacular fashion. So if you value the continued attachment of your brain to your central nervous system, you won’t make any sudden moves.”   
Jon Hart, standing in one corner, and now reaching out and taking the central piece of the puzzle from the table, had the biggest grin on his face. Morrie pulled a face at him over John’s head, and the two jumped when the cocking of four guns could be heard from the stairwell. Morrie half turned, keeping her gun pointed at John’s head.

“Hey guys!”

“Morrie? Are you alright?” said Ianto, eyes wide, worried for his daughter.

“I’m good. You should probably get to analysing the puzzle bit that Jon mark two has.”

“Hold on a minute. John Mark two?”

“Yeah. Johnny boy’s clone. Jon! You can come out now. It’s just my friends.”  
Jon stepped cautiously around the corner. He waved nervously. Jack laughed. And laughed. And laughed. John Hart (the old one, because seriously, even he was starting to get confused), tried to turn around.

“Ah!” said Morrie, grinning. “Head, brain, central nervous system.”

“I am watching the security footage of tonight on repeat.” sniggered Owen as he watched John wince slightly. Tosh elbowed him in the ribs, but was having trouble keeping a smirk off her own face.

"I pushed you off a building, Jack. You were DEAD!" said John, still staring at the wall.

"Leave him to us, Morrie. Come up here." called Ianto, waving his hand at the space beside him. "And bring your clone boy with you."

 

They waited in Jack's office for John the elder to explain everything.

"You said it was a dying woman's wish." said Gwen.

"Yeah, she was dying. I - He shot her." said both John and Jon at once.

Morrie looked at them both and then giggled. The synchronity of the two speaking is something that she thinks is

hilarious. Jon the younger glares at her, but smiles after, his eyes twinkling. He comes and stands next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulder. Despite their similarities, Jon and John are very different, Jon much more caring, and likeable. Ianto and Owen like him already, and he's growing on Tosh. Morrie and he are quite close already, despite only having known eachother for two hours or less. They fit together like two halves of a whole. Morrie leans into his arm and smiles, turning back to catch the last part of John's explaination. And Jon is right next to her, looking at the hologram that is explaining that the bomb on John's chest will explode in ten minutes. Her Tad had whipped out his stopwatch - she knows he'd only carried it to remind him of Jack, and it's an irony to her that the minute he's back, it's being used (not for what he'd expected, she was sure) - and joyfully announced that John had only nine minutes and 43 seconds to live. And John looked up with genuine fear in his eyes and bolted to next to Gwen, hastily slapping the handcuffs over their wrists to force them to help him. Morrie rolls her eyes in the privacy of her mind and sighs. Can't Gwen just get blown up too? She'd always disliked the Welshwoman, because she thought that Morrie couldn't do anything useful because of her age. Morrie pulled a face, but dragged Jon back over to the moniters as the others look for a rift spike, and start trying to get there in time to nullify the explosion.

"We do this a lot. Just sit here and give them information and chase stuff down because..." she started imitating Gwen "We're too young to be on the street, it's too dangerous!" Jon smirked, and the two of them deftly navigated Owen and Jack aroun the traffic to get them to te top of the carpark in time. And if Jack came back looking shellshocked about something that had happened (she had a private theory that Gray was someone very important from his past - family maybe?) she wasn't going to comment. He let her keep Jon, and didn't drive him off. Morrie was happy with that.

 

(It also solved her problem with who she was supposed to take to her school dance, but that's another story)

**Author's Note:**

> Next time on _Interesting Times_ : Morrie joins the team as a languages expert, while trying to attend school.
> 
> I'll post it soon!
> 
> Gwirry


End file.
